Teasing Saavik
by xxkissmeimirishxx
Summary: A young Saavik, living with Spock on Vulcan, feels the fires.


Teasing Saavik .  
Saa\Daa.  
R- underage sex scene.  
13-year old Saavik feels the Fires. Lots of knocking on doors and blushing, sorry.  
Star Trek and all related characters (but not Daamien, I made him) belong to Paramount! Feedback: Peace! (and long live Leonard Nimoy)  
p.s. Happy Birthday to Mr. William Shatner!  
"Please, please, please?" begged a young Saavik.  
It was market day in Spock's village, the last one of the month. Spock usually went, but he left Saavik at home with a science journal or something of that nature. Today, however,  
was Saavik's 12th birthday, and she was sick of staying home.  
Spock looked at her, brain whirring. She was still learning to control her emotions, that was true, but she didn't fly into one of her rages like she used to. Perhaps, just this once?  
"Very well. Brush your hair and you can come."  
Saavik skipped off. Spock had only been waiting for about 40 seconds when she came back, unruly hair tamed somewhat. She was composed all the way to the market and through the vegetable and fruit stands, but then she saw the refugee Romulan children playing a game.  
Instantly her dark eyes lit up, and she turned to Spock.  
"Can I go play with them?"  
Spock surveyed the children, slightly apprehensive. He knew there was a definite risk involved either way, but it was increased by letting her go. Then his human side whispered,  
*It's her birthday*. He cautiously allowed her to go, telling her to keep nearby. She scurried off and joined in their rough, ragtag game. After her first couple rounds, a scruffy boy with a angular, dirt-streaked face began to tease Saavik. She brushed it off at first, immersed in the game. But as his taunts became more and more unbearable, she felt her anger stir. She cast a wary eye around and saw Spock watching her from a spice stall. The look he gave her was unmistakable. She sighed and returned to the game.  
They roamed around a bit after the next round was over, darting into alleys and niches here and there. The boy began to tease Saavik again, this time about her mixed blood. She bore this considerably well- but then he insulted Spock.  
She vaulted over the low wall that separated them and jumped down on top of him, throwing him to the ground. Then she proceeded to bang his head into the dust while squeezing the breath from his body, all the while saying things that would make a full Vulcan blush. Seconds later, though it seemed like much longer, she felt a strong pair of hands pulling her away. She kicked until she recognized the calm voice that was speaking. Then she drooped, knowing that she was in t-r-o-u-b-l-e. Spock stood her against the wall and examined the boy, who was sporting several bruises and a nosebleed, among other things. Spock took him over to a medic before coming back to Saavik. She looked down, knowing she had given in to her anger. A hand on her shoulder guided her back home, her eyes blinded by angry tears. Perhaps he noticed the slight shudder of her shoulders, for Spock sent her to the bathroom to clean up before coming to the kitchen. Either way, Saavik was grateful to clean her muddy cheeks and tempestuous mind.  
Spock was making the midday meal when Saavik entered the kitchen, not looking anywhere but her feet. Spock handed her a knife and a bowl of ploomiks, which she proceeded to peel and cut. Spock began to talk when she was halfway through the task.  
"Why did you injure that boy like you did, Saavik?"  
She waited a moment before answering, quietly, "He insulted- everything I know."  
"Such as?"  
"My- my Vulcan blood. Home. You."  
Spock suddenly remembered his own boyhood, the jeers and threats and missing school things-  
"He's done that before."  
Spock looked down at the small form, deftly peeling the vegetables.  
"You know him?"  
"Not know. I've seen him out the windows and around the school. He's called Daamien."  
Spock, who had been preparing himself to lecture about meditation and control, suddenly found he had no will to. Though Saavik had been wrong, she was clearly waiting for a reprimand, which meant that she knew what she had done was deplorable, especially on Vulcan. *That is an improvement.* "What does he do?"  
"Little things. Like hiding my books so I'm late for class and walk on my heels."  
*That's why they're scabby.* "And why have you not spoken of this before?"  
"You didn't ask."  
- - - - - - Saavik wasn't allowed to go to markets for two weeks after that. She spent her time reading, meditating, and studying various aspects of biology and astronomy. There were no outbursts, no arguments, and no more Daamien incidents.  
Spock found out that Daamien was, like Saavik, an orphan from the Romulan wars, shipped to Vulcan with some fleeing families. He had quickly been tagged as a troublemaker, playing those little pranks that boys his age are fluent at. Having no solid home, the boy wandered the deserts, camping and scrounging, trying not to kill but having no choice. To Spock,  
this sounded hauntingly familiar.  
The next day he went to the refugee camp.

Saavik was doing some calculus exercises when a grubby boy with an equally grubby knapsack came into the room. She stood up, recognizing Daamien and preparing to bash him with the nearest book, which happened to be a dictionary. She had just picked up the hefty volume when Spock put a hand on her shoulder. "Saavik- go make some tea."  
She whirled around angrily, but it was no use. She trudged off to the kitchen, where she proceeded to bang just one pot rather loudly. Spock took Daamien's knapsack and led him up the narrow stairs, past Saavik's open door and Spock's closed one, to a study converted to a bedroom. It was as big as Saavik's, though less welcoming with the Spartan furnishings and bleak view, but to Daamien it was a dream come true. Daamien took his knapsack and put it carefully on the bed before looking round at the remaining books. He wasn't about to say that he couldn't read. Then Spock was guiding him to the bathroom and showing him how to work the sonics, which enthralled the boy. Spock suggested he wash before having his tea, and Daamien readily agreed. Spock gave him a toothbrush and a set of neatly folded clothes before going down to the kitchen.  
Saavik was trying her best to make the tea, but instead she had produced a rather burnt liquid that clumped in the glasses. Spock asked her to get some fruit before quietly disposing of the inedible substance and preparing some more. While Saavik chopped and Spock stirred, he told her that Daamien was going to live with them now, instead of camping in the desert. Saavik thought about arguing but knew that it was no good- and she remembered how grateful she was when Spock took her in. Instead, she set the bowl of fruit on the table and arranged the tea tray, adding another glass. Spock was pouring the tea into the jug when Daamien came into the kitchen. Saavik stared, not recognizing the scruffy boy who she had bashed against the ground. His hair was clean and combed, though he was in need of a haircut. He was wearing a standard Vulcan tunic and pants, with the customary soft boots. He had never worn anything but loose makeshift sandals before, and the boots made his feet feel squeezed. His face was definitely Romulan, with it's sharp jutting cheekbones that no Vulcan had and the spark of rebellion in his coal-black eyes. Spock held out a cup of tea to him, and Daamien accepted gingerly, sniffing it's contents experimentally. He sipped when he saw Saavik eagerly drinking down the spicy liquid, and his hollow face broke into a smile. They sat down, each on their own side of the table, drinking tea and eating fruit. Spock told Daamien about their life here on Vulcan, in this house, and the few rules. Daamien would go to school, study, and meditate with Saavik, and no fighting would be tolerated. They weren't allowed to enter the other's bedrooms without expressed permission, and no putting vinegar on the other's toothbrush. In short, no pranks. Daamien's chores were also set; he would empty the food scraps into the compost bucket on the back porch and he and Saavik would take turns doing the dishes. The rest of that day was a bit of a blur to Saavik. Spock cut Daamien's hair, showed him around the little house and gave him beginning lessons in meditation, as he had done for Saavik, who watched all this over the top of a book. That night, after supper, came the real test for the two youth. They had to venture up the stairs and ready themselves for bed without fighting. Daamien, still clean from his shower that afternoon, just used the toilet and brushed his teeth before going to his room, nodding at Saavik as he passed her. She watched him go, feelings threatening to overwhelm her. Why did he have to come live here? she thought, under the sonic stream. Then she caught a flash of memory as it whizzed by and grimaced. She knew why. But did it have to be Daamien?

The next two months passed quickly for them all, with Daamien settling in and Saavik getting used to setting another place at the table. Spock watched them both carefully, and after the first six weeks or so he began to notice a pattern in Daamien's behavior. He would goad Saavik to the point of violence, then skip away laughing, leaving her enraged and in a corner. This was, in a way, good for Saavik- she had been excelling in her emotional control and could now meditate as long as Spock without straying, but it was never good to tempt Saavik back into her old ways. After one particularly risky incident, Spock decided to talk to Daamien. He knocked gently on the closed door that night, just before bed. Daamien opened it, his still-skinny torso bare. They sat on the unmade bed, Spock looking round at the drawings tacked all over the walls. "Daamien, I have come here to talk to you about Saavik. I think it is unwise for you to- ah- incite emotions in her."  
Silence.  
"Why do you provoke her?"  
Silence for a moment, then a quiet voice.  
"I- I've been doing it for a long time."  
"How long?"  
"3 years."  
Three years.  
"Now is a good time to break the habit. Saavik would have struck you earlier. I cannot permit either of you to venture outside the house until you behave."  
Silence. Spock cast a glance down at the boy- and stared. How could he have missed it? And now there it was, here, in full view.  
Daamien was in love with Saavik.  
It was that simple. But did she love him back?  
Spock had not spoken to Saavik about that certain emotion, nor about the mating and betrothal ceremonies. Perhaps it was time.  
Spock rose and bade Daamien good night, shutting the door behind him. It was time to pay Saavik a visit.  
Like Daamien, he knocked on her door, which she opened, wearing a night shift. She let him in, shut the door, and gestured for him to sit on the bed. Spock watched as she pulled her jacket on over the rather thin shift, knowing that the time for modesty was upon her. The open window yielded a warm breeze that molded the long skirt to her waist, and he saw the new curves there. Saavik sat down on the windowsill facing him, carefully marking her place in the book she now laid aside.  
"Saavik- what do you think of Daamien?"  
Saavik immediately flushed emerald, despite her mumbled words. "We don't get along."  
"Oh?" Spock raised an eyebrow, causing her to flush even deeper. "Y- yes. He pokes and prods and- and teases."  
Spock said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched up. He decided to switch topics.  
"Saavik, you may have heard talk about a certain emotion, love. Do you know what it does?"  
Saavik bit her lip.  
"Is that the one that makes people mate?"  
Spock was as shocked as a (rather modest) Vulcan could be.  
"Yes, that is one of the effects, though usually not the main one. Love is a- a feeling that causes a deep infatuation with another person or being, such as a mate or a Tribble. It can be quite a confusing emotion, and you shall probably encounter it, being half-Romulan."  
"Is this when you tell me that not all babies are conceived in test tubes?"  
Spock had been getting over his first shock, but a second one weighed in. "Partly. You do know that not all children are conceived in test tubes, I assume?"  
"Yes. I've known for a long time."  
Spock let this go. "I have come to ask you if you have encountered this emotion yet. It is not customary, but this is an exception due to your heritage."  
Saavik leaned so far back she almost fell out the window. She chewed her lips until they bled before answering, "Maybe."  
"May I ask who?"  
"No."  
Daamien.  
"I apologize."  
Spock rose. "Now is not the time to pursue this subject. It *is* time for bed."  
Then he did something he rarely, if ever, did. As Saavik opened the door for him, he reached out and smoothed a few stray strands of hair back behind the delicately pointed ear.  
He felt her body shiver, and drew back his hand. She was still a child in many ways, but she was growing fast. Spock got ready for bed, still lost in his thoughts. What would happen if they found out about the other? Hopefully the fighting would stop but- then what?  
Spock drifted off into sleep, his dreams filled with Saavik and Daamien and "what-ifs". Daamien did cease to annoy Saavik for a (short) time, but soon he was at it again, teasing, goading, and otherwise nettling the girl. She showed remarkable restraint, only throwing a (missed) punch once, and even Spock had to admit that he had it coming. But all that changed when Saavik felt the Fires.

Daamien had been living with them for almost a year now, and they were both 13 years old. The bickering had died down to a moderate banter now and then, like Spock and Doctor McCoy in a way. Saavik hadn't been feeling well for a week or so before she noticed the strange feeling growing in her chest. Spock had given her antacids, but her uneasy stomach prevented her from eating anything. She put all of her remaining energy into her studies, hoping that this would pass before Spock noticed. Then she woke up on the ninth day to find her entire body shaking and scorching hot, like molten lava. She dressed with difficulty and slowly wound her way downstairs, late for breakfast. Spock took one look at her and sent her right back up to bed. She never made it, collapsing halfway back up the stairs, blackness engulfing her. She was slightly aware of strong arms lifting her up and tucking her under covers- and then she felt nothing but a strange, raw urge that engulfed her entire being. What was it? She didn't know. Was this the love that Spock had told her about? Surely not- unless what she had been feeling before was not love. But what was wrong with her?  
The world came washing back in sick little waves as she came 'round, her bleary eyes not quite focusing on the poster-ridden ceiling of her bedroom. She looked around cautiously and saw that Spock was sitting on a chair by her bed. This shocked her quite a bit, and her body threatened to black out again. Closing her eyes, she only opened them when she heard the quiet beep of a scanner, and a sharp intake of breath from Spock. His face was impassive, but his dark eyes betrayed his surprise, and he took another long breath. By now, Saavik was staring, heart racing, wondering if she was dying. After a few long moments, she opened her cracked lips and squeaked out, "Spock?"  
He seemed to remember she was there, and looked at her, eyes refocusing. He helped her sit up partially and gave her a glass of water, which she drank thirstily. She set down the empty glass and sat up all the way, her head spinning. "Spock?" she tried again. "What's wrong with me?"  
Spock seemed to be having a hard time speaking; his voice faltered. "You- you are- you are in the pon farr."  
"What is that?"  
"It is similar to K'Reler. You have heard of that?"  
Saavik's thin cheeks colored. "Yes." *Hell of a way to be told.* "The plak tow has set in."  
"Er-"  
"Saavik, surely you know how the Fires are traditionally quenched?" said Spock desperately.  
"Er- but I can't do that."  
"You need to meditate. The Fires should abate in a few days, but you must remain in meditation until then."  
"Why so long?"  
"Because if you surface in the middle of the Fires, it will be nearly impossible to return, and you would be in danger of death."  
*Oh*  
"But what about the other girls my age?"  
"They have been bonded and prepared, which I have neglected to do."  
"I'm quite- quite happy that you haven't bonded me, Spock."  
Spock heard what she really meant. *Don't be so hard on yourself*  
He stood up.  
"We need to take you to Mount Seleya, where you can be given instruction in meditation. There is a special technique-"  
But then Daamien's familiar face appeared in the doorway, and Saavik became aware of her (developing) chest, barley shrouded in her thin shift. She passed out again.  
- - - - - - - Saavik woke up and instantly regretted it. She was on fire, her skin was rough and molten, her world was fuzzy. There were flames all around her, clouding her vision and coating the walls in a red-hot lacquer. She stood up, shedding the shift and throwing open her windows, letting the breeze wash over her body.  
So it was that when Spock came up to her room with some water, he found the totally naked Saavik hanging halfway out a window, her entire body flushed a deep green. He called her name, and she whirled around, eyes lit by a new fire. When he saw those wild eyes, Spock knew she was no longer aware of anything but the Fires, and he also knew that meditation wouldn't help her now. His fears were confirmed when she scampered toward him and seized his hand, folding down all the fingers but his index and middle, matching it with her own. He pulled away, seeing the torment in her eyes and feeling her scorching hot body. He shut the door behind him and ran to Daamien's room.  
The boy was, strangely, still up, though it was well past midnight. Spock explained what Saavik needed quickly and rather breathlessly. Daamien's face understandably flushed as he heard what Spock asked of him. "Please, Daamien- this is of a purely biological nature now. It is also an emergency."  
"E- emergency?"  
"She is in death's shadow now, and if the Fires continue unquenched, it is a matter of hours."  
But they both knew it wasn't just biological to the two parties involved. Finally, Daamien nodded. He didn't really have a choice.  
Spock led him to Saavik's room, a room previously forbidden to Daamien, and he still hesitated a moment before entering. Spock thought about coming in with the boy, but he knew they would never mate in front of him. He did whisper something in Daamien's ear before the door closed, something that Daamien was glad to know. "She knows what to do- just go along."  
Then the door shut.  
Saavik was crouched on the floor, and Daamien got the shock of his life to see her bare skin. She drank him in for a moment before she realized he was an unbonded male, and therefore a possible mate. She approached him quickly and stripped off his pajamas, then half-led, half-dragged him to her bed. Daamien's brain, meanwhile, had been working overtime until it reached a conclusion. Here was a girl that he was madly in love with, and she wanted very badly to sleep with him. Who was he to interfere with her wishes?  
Incredibly soon they were in her bed, his cock hardening almost instantly as he felt her white-hot skin beneath his. On Romulus they had foreplay, and he began to stroke her body to get her aroused. This was apparently unnecessary as she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her soaking wet vulva. *Okay, I get the point*  
He slid into her, and came instantly. She must have as well, for her body flushed deeper with that special color. They found their rhythm, experimenting with different strokes and techniques. The long night wore on, so to speak.  
Around dawn, Spock got up the nerve to peek into Saavik's room, only to see that every single window was steamed up and the blankets were thrown on the floor. He decided that things must be going well, and didn't care to see what was going on in the bed. As he closed the door, he heard a quiet groan from Saavik, and a soft blush erupted on his face. *Very well.* The plak tow, which had been halfway over when Daamien was "introduced", ran it's course in about two more days, during which Spock had been quite embarrassed. Also, he had seen a little bit of what they were doing as he put a water jug on the bedside table, and, quite frankly, he had no idea where they had picked it up. *Those positions are for the young- in this case "very" young,* Spock thought as he made his way downstairs. - - - - - - - When Saavik awoke from her erotic daze, she was a little startled to find herself wrapped around Daamien in her bed with both of them naked. In fact, she jumped up with a yelp. Spock must have been passing by her door, for he knocked. Saavik opened it before remembering that she wasn't wearing anything. Spock looked away as she scampered to find a covering. When she returned, her skinny legs protruding from under a long tunic, Spock got a good look at her for the first time in three days.  
She looked exhausted, with her matted hair sticking to her pale, sweaty skin. There were circles beneath her eyes, and she appeared to be trembling slightly. Spock reached out and felt her forehead, and almost smiled. She was back to normal now, but she was looking rather confused. After a moment, she spoke.  
"Spock- why- what happened?"  
Spock cleared his throat slightly and looked down at his feet for a moment before answering.  
"Do you recall me telling you that you were in the plak tow?"  
Saavik furrowed her brow. "I think so," she said after a bit.  
"Shortly afterward, you lost consciousness, and when you awoke, you were on the verge of dying. I do not expect that you remember much from that time."  
"I remember being on fire."  
"Yes- and meditation would not have helped you then, even of you could have calmed yourself for long enough. So-"  
Saavik's eyes widened. "Who- not you."  
"No. Daamien."  
She teetered like she was going to fall over, but instead she turned to look at the stripped bed and the equally stripped boy who was sleeping on it.  
"Oh," was all she said. Her cheeks were violently colored. "Perhaps you would like to wash, and then eat something," suggested Spock. She nodded, still looking at Daamien, but she followed him to the bathroom. For the first time since her arrival, he showed her how to run a water shower, a precious extravagance on the desert Vulcan. As the cool liquid ran down her legs, Saavik shivered, partly because she was encountering a new substance, but mostly because she had just remembered what she and Daamien had done. *My God- where had we learned "that?!"*  
She washed her hair and let the water run over her body for an extra moment before shutting it off and wrapping her now chilled body in a towel. She looked at her reflection as she brushed her teeth, and saw something new in her eyes. What was it?  
She returned to her room to dress and found Daamien searching for his clothes in the pile of sheets and blankets. He was still naked. Saavik looked away, embarrassed, and turned her back on him to dress. She threw him the towel and gestured towards the bathroom, and he got the message.  
After he left, she took the sweaty bedclothes and their clothes down to the laundry, putting fresh sheets on her little bed. The room reeked of sex, so she flung open the windows to air it out while she attacked her tangled hair. She smelled food cooking below, and her stomach grumbled painfully. When was the last time she had eaten?  
A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts. Saavik whirled around to see Daamien, wet hair plastered to his forehead (and dressed), standing in her doorway. They both blushed richly when their eyes met, but they didn't look away. Daamien came and stood beside Saavik, holding out his hand for the brush. She gave it to him, and he began to brush out the tangles in her snarled locks. He brushed for a long time, but while he was brushing, something happened between them. They needed no meld, no speech, just the air that carried their thoughts. They were semi-bonded now, like it or not. When Daamien finished and gave the brush back, Saavik turned to face him. Her thought was to thank him for what he had done for her, and not just brushing her hair, but the words never passed her lips.  
When she looked into his eyes, something clicked inside her- and she understood what Spock had meant when he had told her about love. This was love- pure, blissful love. It couldn't be explained or described, it just was.  
Her brain kicked back in and told her to thank Daamien.  
Her emotions kicked in and tried to over-rule her brain.  
The two meshed in her nervous system and confused her neurons, so her body acted of it's own accord.  
Saavik leaned forward and kissed Daamien softly on his lips.  
- - - - - - - Spock was at the door of Saavik's room, about to say that their meal was ready, but then he saw-  
Daamien and Saavik were locked in one another's embrace, kissing fiercely.  
Spock quietly shut the door behind him. After all, they'd already "done it", to use a Terran term. What more could happen? 


End file.
